Clarity
by EbonyFox
Summary: Hannibal's inner turmoil as he watches Clarice sleep.


Just a side dish I whipped up while I am thinking about Awakening.

No profit intended. No character here belongs to the author.

This is loosely based on chapter 89+ of Hannibal.

                                                                    Clarity 

             Ruby eyes hovered over the sleeping form several paces away. Soft breathing and the gentle swish of the curtains were the only resonances that echo through the room. The tangy scent of the sea and potent mint merged to fashion a compelling aroma that made the owner of the ruby eyes lean back his head and sigh.

            Another room was built for this moment. The entirety of the scenario was encapsulated inside a magnificent chamber. Again and again did the Good Doctor recall this instance.

            Gentle moaning escaped coral mouth. He snapped his eyes open and immediately retrieved his small flashlight to examine her pupils. Nothing seemed wrong so he surmised that she was dreaming. Just to be sure, he felt along the covers to find her foot. With a key, he gingerly ran it along her sole as he watched her reaction. He believed she is safe. He is only administering countermeasures to combat the dose she received from the first dart. With infinite care he cradled her foot while watching her still form.

            After setting her foot down beneath the comforter, he settled back to his armchair and reached for his pad of butcher paper and started to make calculations. They began brilliantly but would inevitably decline because of his wish to turn back time. After a moment, he stopped from his rapid fire writing and stared at the bed.

            Thoughts lingered and faded to black. The light from the low shaded lamp shied away from the red pinpoints of Dr. Lecter's eyes. He could not fully understand the things he is feeling at this very instant. There's too much he wants to and can't say. He wondered if this is genuine glee he feels or it's just the apprehension that finally, he could secure a prime place for Mischa. Across the unfathomable depths of his memory palace, his reason would surrender to both.

            A rustle from the bed covers made him focus on Starling. Her rapid eye movements suggested she is in deep slumber and dreams. She is encased in silk pajamas because the ones she previously wore now reek of pig shit and sweat. Once again, the pungent scent of mint reached Dr. Lecter's nostrils. He held in the fragrance. He knew that the ointment he rubbed on Starling gave a deep comforting warmth. He suddenly yearned for some himself, although the one he really longs for is something to placate the storm that ravaged his sentiments.

            He couldn't quite put his finger on it. For someone who is usually certain of himself, this is becoming quite tedious. Questions, questions. He prided himself of asking the best questions, and typically getting the best answers. Right now, between ministrations on Clarice, he hasn't got any of the latter.

            The small clock softly chimed to signal 9:00. He slowly rose from the chair and padded out of the room. It is time for tea.

                              ~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

             He watched Clarice in repose. He has found that it pleases him to watch her sleep. It doesn't surprise him; the number of times he felt peace by just looking at her in secret. Three times, that is enough to conclude such.

            He also saw that Clarice is now regaining consciousness, albeit for several seconds only. Nevertheless, he is satisfied with that.

            He stood; he had paced the whole room for some time and quite content at just looking at Clarice. He contemplated on his current anxiety and future plans. Was it perhaps because of his close brush with death? He had been close to death before, but never like this… no, it didn't bother him. He knew he'd be rescued, one way or another. Then, what is it?

            Would it be retribution or resolution? What could be this trivial thing that deprived him of tranquility?

            He looked down on her sleeping form. She is so peaceful in sleep. Her coral mouth was slightly parted as she breathed in an even pattern. High cheekbones and ivory skin touched the thick fan of her lashes. Her hair sweetly flowed on the linen pillowcase. He would see this forever, although this time, it would be placed far away from the running picture of her. That was an ethereal vision of her. This one, this one is simply exquisite.

            He caught himself in time. What is this? A sudden respite from his inner turmoil? A slow smile blossomed from the lips that smoldered human flesh. Is this the answer that he was looking for? Is it? Is Clarice his answer? How?

            A simple truth: completion. A conclusion of several years of pardon and waiting. The unraveling of souls. Perhaps if he could fully own her, that would seal their union. But then what next? Disappointment then? No, he could never fully own her, neither could she with him. They would contain each other though.

            He sat at the foot of the bed, careful of waking Clarice. He seemed elated now. He could put his plan into execution. The only thing he would have to wait for is Margot's end of the bargain and Clarice regaining consciousness. He has analyzed everything now; Clarice would have to do the rest, with his utmost guidance, of course.

            Now all is in place; Mischa and Clarice are now within reach. He would savor the reward brought unto him with them. Smiling, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear:

            "Clarice," he said, "You are my clarity."

The end.

Whee!!! Maybe I should give up studying and write fanfictions instead. (no, I can't do that…)

Reviews are of course welcome.

I believe this is a revised version. I would like to apologize to LoT for the past mistakes and to thank her for her assistance. 


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